


The One Who Remembers

by MissJacki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Samcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:52:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJacki/pseuds/MissJacki
Summary: While Chuck is staying at the Bunker in S11, Sam asks him to send him back in time to help the tortured version of himself that remembered Hell.





	The One Who Remembers

The first time Sam saw him, it was just after the Hell hallucinations started. It was only a glimpse, just out of site from his peripheral view, so he quickly forgot about it when he first encountered the memories of the meat hooks. Soon after, Sam would see him more clearly, sometimes standing, sometimes kneeling, and more often, just curled in the fetal position on the floor. Sam knew who he was, once he saw his bloody, broken face. It was himself, the one he met and killed when the wall in his head crumbled. It was the part of him who remembered Hell. 

After Cas shifted the pain to himself, Sam only saw him occasionally in dreams. Always looking the same, always speaking softly, telling Sam he wasn’t going to fight him, while the words weren’t spoken, Sam knew even as it happened, that he was pleading to die. To just let it be over. Sam remembered how badly he wanted to keep the memories locked away, but he more so wanted this part of him to stop suffering. This actually made killing him easier than killing his soulless self. Putting him down and out of his misery was the easiest kill Sam ever had.

The dreams of him weren’t frequent, so Sam just wrote them off as any vivid nightmare he had acquired throughout his life, and never spoke of it or dwelled on it much. However, for some reason, after the insane conditions over the last couple days, Lucifer himself was staying in Sam and Dean’s bunker. along with his Father, Chuck, and the dreams suddenly returned with a vengeance. They weren’t repeats of the normal dream, now his burnt, bloody, tortured self would scream in pain and terror, begging God for help, and Sam awoke in a cold sweat, shivering and nauseous, his throat raw as though he, himself, had been screaming. The bunker was dark and quiet. Dean had not burst through the door, gun in hand, as if reacting to Sam screaming in the night, so Sam was sure the screams weren’t audible. He went to the sink to splash water on his face, pausing to let a round of dry heaves work its way through his system, and he let the warm air of his room fill his now over exerted lungs until the shaking stopped. He needed a drink. Whether it would be a beer, a shot of Johnny Walker, or hot tea with honey and ginger, wouldn’t be decided till he got to the kitchen. 

Lucifer was locked safely in the dungeon, even though Chuck assured Sam and Dean that he was completely powerless and couldn’t harm them if he wanted to, they didn’t want to take any chances, Powerless or not, Sam knew he was there. He could feel him in the air, and could swear he could hear him taunting “Saaaam? Sammy? C’mon bunk buddy, hang out with me like we used to. Want to talk about old times? Hey! I know, how about a nice game of spin the bottle? Maybe Twister? I promise I wont cheat this time HAHAHA!!” Sam knew it was impossible, so he shoved the thought away and concentrated on the sound’s coming from Dean’s laptop in the war room. A basketball game. It must be a repeat since it was nearly 3am. This is good, he’ll watch videos with Dean and have a drink or 2 to calm his nerves. When he got to the war room, expecting to see his brother in the “dead guy” robe and about 6 beers into a good buzz, he saw Chuck instead. Maybe he would actually be better company right now. Sam knew he could talk to Chuck about anything, he always did, the only difference now was that he could see him face to face, and get an immediate response if he needed one. 

“Hey Sam!” Chuck said, just as Sam crossed the threshold into the war room. “You had a terrible dream didn’t you?” Chuck didnt even make eye contact, but slid a piping hot cup of tea in front of a chair next to him, encouraging Sam to sit for a while. Sam smiled, and sat without hesitation “Yeah Chuck, I did” he took a sip and let it warm the ache in his throat “but I um, I dont think it was a dream.” Chuck shut the laptop and turned to Sam with full attention. “Want to tell me about it?” Sam sipped again and cleared his throat. Maybe talking face to face with God was harder than he thought. A nervous smile came across Sam’s lips as he stared shyly into the cup of tea, as if it held more answers than the Creator of the Universe that sat beside him. “I know you know I spent time… downstairs. In Hell. In Lucifer’s cage.” Chuck nodded, “And you’re anxious because Lucifer is here? I can’t make you trust me Sam, that’s a choice all your own, but I promise you he can’t….” “No no no, Chuck, its not that” Sam cut off “I trust you, I do… i always have, but Ive been well, seeing things.” Chuck sat straight, drawing just a little closer into Sam’s space, nearly forcing him to make eye contact. Sam’s shoulder’s dropped, in reverent surrender. “When the wall crumbled, I went unconscious, and I couldn’t wake up until I killed my symbolic pieces, and absorbed their memories. Of things I’d done when I had no soul, and ummm everything that happened in Hell.” Sam swallowed hard and broke eye contact with Chuck, but Chuck stayed focused. “Tell me what that was like” Sam shifted in his chair and rubbed his face. “It was hard, sort of. I literally had to kill myself, twice. Just so I could put myself back together. But, my last piece, the piece that remembered Hell.. it wasn’t hard to put him down. He wanted it. I hurt for him so bad, that it felt merciful to me, to put him out of his misery. But now, I saw him in my dream, screaming, and begging for help. Begging YOU for help.” Sam’s throat grew tight. He wasn’t sure if it was anger, or grief, or just plain sadness. His eyes welled, and he tried for a moment to hold the tears back, but he couldn’t help it. “I guess I don’t understand why you didn’t help, is what I’m saying.” Chuck sat back and crossed his arms. “I did help Sam. I put Cas back together and gave him the power to pull you out. I can’t honestly tell you why your soul was left behind, that’s something you need to ask Cas about, but I steered your brother in the direction to get your soul out and told Death to help him. I still give all of you free will, so I put my hands in much more with you guys than I have for anyone for thousands of years, the time it took you all to figure out the right paths were on the three of you.”

Sam was speechless. Half happy to have some blanks filled in, but half mortified that he may have offended God to his face. He looked up at Chuck “Im sorry, I spoke out of turn, I didn’t mean to accuse you of….” Chuck held a hand up for Sam to stop apologizing. “It’s okay Sam, really. Ive heard worse from the Archangels. I want to know what has you worried right now.” Worried. Is that what this was? Yes…. Yes! Sam realized for the first time, he wasn’t scared, or grieving, he was worried. “Im worried Chuck…. that I made the wrong call with him, or me as it was.” Another tear rolled down Sam’s cheek. He sniffed and wiped his face again. “Im worried I shouldn’t have killed him. Maybe I could have helped him.”

Guilt flooded over Sam like a dam broke in his soul. He didn’t put this part of himself out of his misery, he just ended it. The pain may not be increasing, but it wasn’t gone. It was like taking someone out of a fire but not helping them with the burns. He knew now that his soul didn’t simply need to be brought out of Hell, it needed to heal. Something he was never able to do. Was it even possible? Where would someone even begin to heal themselves after centuries of brutal torture? Sam buried his face in his hands. How did he miss it? He was always the first one to see if a victim needed help after a possession or a monster attack. He would make sure they got to a Doctor if they needed one, or he would recommend they find someone to talk to, and would offer his own phone number if they felt he could help. But somehow, with himself, he didn’t even bother. He would think “I’m alive, I look and feel healthy, I love, and I am loved. I can still help other people, so I’m just fine. A lot of people have it worse.” 

Chuck let Sam cry for a while. He knew it was luxury Sam rarely gave to himself, and not even once had he cried about the pain he had suffered in Hell, once he was out and intact. It wasn’t until Sam spoke through his sobs “Im so sorry, it was my fault. I could have helped but I didn’t. I was selfish wanting to come back so fast.” Chuck grabbed Sam’s hands roughly. “Now Sam, STOP! It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know then. You didn’t know you would get through it alive, let alone be capable of healing yourself.” Sam met Chuck’s eyes again “What can I do now?” Chuck smiled “Whatever you want. What would you like to do?” Sam thought for a moment. “I want to go back. Can I go back and talk to him, or umm me again?” Chuck winked and touched Sam’s forehead. Instantly, Sam was out.

Once again, Sam entered the room. It was Bobby’s house. Dark and only lit by candles. White sheets draped over the furniture. Sam could even smell the Old Spice and whiskey like he did that day he first met him. The only difference now was that Sam was 5 years older, and completely unarmed. He knew he was there, his bloody, broken self. He could smell him. Burnt flesh, singed hair, dried blood, sweat, and fear. Not strong enough to overwhelm him, but just enough that the memories came back to the front of his mind in detail. A smell that was around himself for 180 years. Sam walked cautiously through the room, remembering this part of himself had a blade. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t use it, but still mildly regretted coming unarmed. Then he saw him, once again sitting at the table with his head down and hair hanging in matted strands over his face. “Hey, um Sam? It’s me, or, us, the living part.” Sam could see in the candle light, this figure stand up. “Why are you here?” Sam held up his hands to show him he had no weapon, and said “I need to talk to you. I want to help.” He could see himself walking around the table towards him. His face was more visible, but barely recognizable. When finally stood within inches, he lowered his head as if a last effort to hide the pain from this older, (yet younger) healthy man in front of him. “You can’t help me Sam. Just kill me, put me out of my misery” “No, that’s where we were wrong the first time.” Sam reached out and touched him on the shoulder, but the weakened, damaged man flinched against his touch. It must have hurt him, or maybe he didn’t know touching doesn’t have to hurt. “Im sorry” Sam said while pulling his hand away. “Here, come sit.” They both sat after Sam adjusted the sheet over the couch to be more comfortable. “I can help you okay? I don’t need to kill you to stop the suffering, I need to heal you. Then I can be whole again, and you, and I, will heal. Will you trust me?” “What choice do I have?” 

Things began to be more clear now. This poor, mangled creature thought he had no choice but accept whatever pain or grief was bestowed on him. As something he couldn’t control or maybe even felt he deserved. Now Sam knew where to start. “First off I want you to know we made it. We made it out alive, and though there were some really rough patches, things got better. WE got better.” Broken Sam let his eyes look over himself 5 years after their first meeting “Yeah, Id say you look a lot better than I do.” And Sam could see a hint of a smile on his lips. Sam couldn’t help but smile himself. he’d have to admit that he was actually pretty pleased with his body at 32 years old. He attributed that to eating healthy when he could but never denying himself pizza or a juicy cheeseburger when he wanted them. He hadn’t had so much as a cold in 5 years, not counting the side effects from The Trials. “We, or I, have made so many choices in my life, that have brought me to where I am now. There’s been some very poor ones, sometimes people got hurt, people I love and care about, but some were very good choices, and saved a lot of people, though, the most important one, where we somehow saved the world, is the one that actually got us here, where we both are right now. “ Sam could see the guilt come across the face of his tortured self. “So, this, is our fault right?” Sam thought for a moment, thats not what he was trying to say at all “No, this wasnt our fault. We broke Lucifer out of his cage, yes, that was a very bad choice, but saving the world afterward was not. That was the best choice. What Lucifer did to us, was HIS doing. Not ours. His choices and his alone.” At that Sam saw it. A light shine behind tortured Sam’s eyes, and he could see his skin begin to regain color. This is where the healing starts! “Touch me!” Sam said placing the hand of his broken soul on his heart. He looked confused. “See?!” Sam said, with a new found excitement “I’m alive, and healthy, WE are out, WE survived. Can you feel it?” Sam could see that he could. He could feel his heart, pounding away in his chest as it made more light come from behind battered Sam’s eyes. Sam watched him take in a few long deep breaths, as though he hadn’t breathed in ages and it brought more color to his skin, as streaks like faded claw marks began to disappear from his arms. “I can feel it” he said finally. “I can breathe and it doesn’t burn! It doesn’t hurt, or stink, it feels…. good” He said with an actual smile. A smile of sheer relief, and Sam could see himself 5 years ago begin to emerge from under the scars. 

“This is good!” Sam felt his skin become tingly and static charged. He was surprised he couldn’t hear it. “Now, keep breathing, keep filling your lungs with air and know that it’s life okay? We lived, we are alive. We aren’t perfect by a long shot, but we do good. He tried to destroy us but he didnt. We can still fight for whats right, and still love and be loved back!” Sam’s tortured soul was clearly recognizable as himself at 27 when he overpowered the Devil himself and jumped into the pit, but something in his face was wrong. Something still unrecognizable. “ What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” “No” he said “I just dont remember what love is. What it feels like.” Sam felt his heart break. Even through the worst parts of his life, even when he thought he hated Dean or his father, or even his mother once or twice, for bringing the hunter’s life into the family, he knew he never stopped loving them. Even more recently when he and Dean had nearly killed each other on a couple occasions, he loved his brother, and even when Dean was a demon, he knew deep inside he loved him and that would be the real reason he came back, but this poor boy, just spent 180 yrs of furious hate and violence, that it managed to erase love from his memory. “I can show you. Will you let me?” “Yes.” 

Sam had to admit to himself that this was probably the strangest experience of his life, and that was a pretty high bar, but it felt right. It felt like the only way this part of his soul would finally feel peace. “Can I touch you?” He asked “Yes, just please don’t hurt me.” A twinge of pain hit Sam in the heart, but he could honestly answer “I promise I wont. And you can stop me at any time.” A trusting nod was returned. “Love feels like this.” Sam said, as he touched his hair. No longer matted and blood stained. Soft and smooth, his right hand cupping his jaw which until a few minutes ago was smeared with blood. Sam felt this piece of him becoming warm under his touch. Placing a hand around Sam’s wrist as if to close a connection and maybe even to feel as though he could pull away if he wanted to. But he didnt. Sam moved in closer to him, and just wrapped his long strong arms around him. Pulling him into his chest and resting his chin atop his head. “This is what safety feels like.” Both Sams were silent.

Sam didn’t rush anything. They literally had all the time in the world, and he would give himself whatever he needed. From the way he felt him, as he finally wrapped his arms around Sam’s back, he knew this was something he needed, and he kissed the top of his head, closed his eyes and smiled. “Are we okay?” Sam asked after several minutes of silence. “I think so.” He answered “But, how can I be sure you’re real and not one of Lucifer’s tricks?” Sam was stumped for a minute. He remembered this feeling all too well when he had a hard time determining what was real and what was a hallucination. He remembered what Dean had told him about Hell, and how the pain was different. Feeling the pain from the real world helped him focus more on what was real, but he couldnt possibly cause this man any more pain. Then Sam remembered that sometimes Lucifer would trick him with pleasure. Making him think for a moment he felt good and then he would instantaneously be hanging from hooks in his face. That pleasure he felt though, was different than pleasure topside. It was more like a drug induced pleasure, than a real human feeling. He could show his soul real pleasure.

“I remember the tricks he played to make me think I was happy for a moment and then steal it away from me. It felt real in the moment, but it felt superficial, only on the surface. It didn’t feel like this.” Sam pulled back away, just far enough to look into his eyes. To connect with him on level that they would both feel on the inside. He held his face in his hands, stared into his eyes until he saw life begin to sparkle in them. It may have been enhanced by the surrounding candle light, but they burned with hope. Sam closed his own eyes and pressed his lips to his temple, along his ear and to his lips. Soft with closed mouth, he stayed for just a second or two before he felt those other lips part and invite his tongue inside. It was beautiful. Sam couldnt deny it. It might have been the best kiss hes ever given or received and he knew his counterpart felt it too. They were connected now, and everything one felt, so did the other. It was more than intense, it was epic. Sam could tell by each touch what he needed, what he craved and feelings of true, honest, pure pleasure grew like vines from the soles of his feet to the hair on his head. They both needed to feel each others bare skin surround them. Sam wasnt exactly sure how or when their clothes wound up in a pile on the floor, but it was a dream right? No, he was sure he wasn’t in the real world, but this was definitely something real. 

Sam laid along side himself at 27. Admired his own body even then. strong, muscular, maybe a little less hair in some places, and maybe a little more in others, but for the first time in his life, he realized he is beautiful. Not just attractive, or a 7 and a half, but actually beautiful. He let his hands and lips explore himself, as he also returned the admiration of his future body. It was confusing, but amazing at the same time. He wanted nothing more than to make love to him, himself. And he did. Everything one felt, so did the other, so every movement was perfectly in line. When slowing down was best, when speeding up was better, and when they climaxed simultaneously, it was nothing less than perfect. He felt everything in his body and soul release pressure like a volcano, and then it was calm. Both Sams were silent. 

Sam awoke in his room. Sore and exhausted, but peaceful. He felt like he had slept for 3 days but the clock on his phone said just 7 hours. He was thirsty and starving, but was happy to smell bacon and pancakes cooking. Maybe it was a dream after all? He didn’t think so, he really felt like the healing actually began and a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. He made a promise to himself that whenever he felt that pain well up in his soul again, he would go back and visit his new friend. The most important person he’s saved yet to date… Himself.


End file.
